My thumb rubs over the soft fabric. My heart pounds as I picture a squirming little baby filling this onesie out and reaching for me. I can imagine a crying baby, wanting love and comfort and finding me as the only sorry source because I can’t ever see Lila even holding a baby, much less loving one. All my horrible thoughts seem to disappear as I realize I’ll have to be this baby’s saving grace. As I realize that maybe, just maybe, I can be my baby’s saving grace.
Fisting the onesie, I stand. “Hey, I need to go see my mom.”
“Now?” Lila asks with a frown.
“Yeah. I’ll spend the night and come back in the morning. Will you be okay here by yourself?”
“Why do you need to see your mom?” There’s suspicion in her eyes, but she can follow me all the way there if she wants.
“I want to apologize in person about the post you made and tell her how far along you are. I just need to see her.” Maybe I sound desperate because Lila doesn’t put up a fight. She nods and agrees to let me go. “Thanks, babe.” I lean forward to kiss her and then go to our room to pack a few things.
Once I’m in the car, I tell my mom I’m on the way to talk to her and Dad. Unless something does happen, this baby is coming. That baby will feel real soon and I need to start putting my baby ahead of myself and my weaknesses. That innocent baby will be helpless and will need someone he or she can depend on. That won’t be Lila. It will have to be me. The pity party is over.
“FC, what’s wrong?” my mom says the moment she opens the door, concern written all over her face.
“We need to talk.”
She leads me into the living room where my father sits in his favorite seat. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“Thanks for this.” I hold up the onesie. I haven’t been able to put it down yet. “She’s five weeks along.”
“Okay,” Mom says slowly, glancing at Dad. “You had to drive all this way to tell us that? Not that it isn’t great to see you.”
A deep breath fills my lungs, then quickly deflates them. How do I say what I need to say? What will they think of me? I look down at the onesie. This is for my baby. I have to step up for my baby.
“Is something wrong with the baby already?” Mom asks.
“No, I don’t think so,” I reply. “This is mostly about me.”
“Spit it out, son. Whatever it is, it’ll be all right.” Dad nods in affirmation, believing in his words.
“Okay, well, um, things with Lila aren’t great. They haven’t been practically since I moved there.” Mom and Dad exchange a look. “She, uh, well…” I glance down at the onesie again. I have to do this. I have to do it for my baby. My baby who needs at least one strong parent, which will obviously have to be me. “She hits me,” I say quietly. “Short, violent temper. She drinks. I drink. I’ve started smoking again, too. But our relationship is a lot of me working, taking care of her, her beating on me for whatever reason, and now she’s pregnant.”
Before I can brave a look at my mother, she takes a seat next to me and wraps her arms around me, holding my head against her chest. “I knew something was wrong. I’ve been telling your dad that for months.”
“You’re brave for staying and for telling us,” Dad says, causing me to look up at him with confusion. “I’m assuming you haven’t hit her back?” I shake my head. “Brave,” he repeats. “Strong.”
“Why did you decide to tell us now? What are you going to do?” Mom asks.
“Because there’s a baby. A baby I don’t even want,” I admit in a whisper. “She trapped me.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “FC, I love you, but you can’t go around saying that about a woman.”
“I’m not lying,” I say, a tad harshly. “What else do you call it when she stops taking her birth control without telling you, when she says she is still taking it, and then tells you you either have sex without a condom or you get hit and have to spend the night in a hotel?” That has to be one of the worst things I’ve ever said to my parents, but I don’t need them to question me about Lila.
Mom’s jaw drops and Dad looks pissed.
“You sent me this,” I rub the fabric of the onesie, “and it hit me. It got a little more real. I need a plan to get away from Lila and take my baby with me. That’s why I decided to tell you.”
“You need to quit the drinking,” Dad orders. “Anything she could use against you, stop right now.”
I nod and Mom says, “Start documenting everything she does that will hurt her and help you. Every time she hits you, write it down. They’ll want documentation.”
We talk for hours about a plan and Mom pesters me with questions about what my life has been like, becoming more and more upset as the night wears on. It feels good to get it off my chest, for someone else to know the secret I’ve been keeping. They give me hope that I’ll be able to get out of this situation and take my baby with me.
But when I get home the next evening, Lila not only has dinner ready, but there’s a shot of tequila waiting patiently by my plate. My mouth waters as I stare at it. My heart beats faster. I want it even more, knowing I can’t have it.
“What’s the matter?” Lila asks.
“Nothing.” I lift my eyes to look at her. “I’ve been thinking, though, and you’re right.” My hand trembles as I lift the shot. Each step I take seems to echo drink, drink, drink, drink into my mind. Somehow, I manage to pour it down the sink and then grab the bottle. “If you can’t drink, neither should I.” Just as I slowly tilt it over, my body and mind want to rebel and pour the delicious liquid down my throat instead. Lila grabs my hand, stopping me. I sigh quietly with relief as I look over at her.
“No, FC. You don’t have to do that. It’s fine. I don’t mind if you drink.”
What? She was insistent before I left for my parents’. I shake my head. “I should quit now. We won’t be able to drink when the baby comes either. Our baby needs better parents than that, so I should quit now.” Once again, I tilt the bottle even though her fingers dig into mine. My eyes drink up every drop for my mouth. After another second, I think about how this is wrong and I should save some of it. Just in case.
I didn’t realize it would be this difficult.
I take a deep breath as the last drop disappears down the drain. “There. First step to becoming better.”
“Proud of you, babe,” Lila says, but it lacks sincerity. “Let’s eat dinner.”
“What do your parents think about the baby?” I ask.
Lila shrugs. “They aren’t happy. Mom said we should’ve been more careful. Dad thinks they’ll end up having to pay and take care of the baby.”
Well, it’s nice to know they think I’ll leave Lila with my baby. As if talking about her conjured the woman, there’s a knock on the door and I open it to find Lila’s mother standing on the other side.
“Oh, good. You’re both here. We all need to talk.” Karen walks past me and finds a chair to sit in.
I close the door and sit next to Lila on the couch. Karen folds her hands together on top of her lap. It’s never good when we see Lila’s mom and I dislike her almost as much as Lila for the simple fact that one day she came over, saw me with a black eye, and didn’t look surprised. She didn’t ask me what happened or how I got it. She didn’t acknowledge it at all and that’s when it hit me. She knows exactly how her daughter is and what she does. I’m not the first person she’s hit.
I was so pissed when I made that realization, I got drunk off my ass as soon as she left.
“What are you here for?” Lila asks.
“Since you’re pregnant, your dad and I have talked a few things over.” She glances between the two of us. “We’ve decided it’s time that both of you start being more responsible.”
“What the hell did you just say?” I interrupt. Drinking aside, I’m responsible. I’ve never missed a day of work and I pay my bills. How am I irresponsible?
Karen ignores me. “We want rent and Lila, you’re taking over your car payment, phone bill
, and car insurance.”
Rent, I’m totally okay with. So far, we’ve only paid utilities, but that’s her fault. That’s all she’s ever made Lila pay, which is something Lila made me take over soon after I moved in. But the rest? Hell no. I stand.
“Hold on just a fucking minute. You know she quit her job, right? I’m not about to take over all of her bills because you’re tired of paying them, especially when she could be working right now.” I turn to Lila. If I’m going to get bitched at tonight, might as well go whole hog. “Speaking of that shit you pulled, you didn’t talk to me about it first. If you want to stay at home with the baby, fine. We should talk about that, but there is no reason why you can’t still be working.” Lila opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “Yeah, you’re pregnant, I know. But your ass ain’t helpless and you aren’t bedridden. You can still stand for eight hours a day at a convenience store for three days a week.”
“Well, it’s not like I can go back now,” she says with a bit of a whine that grates my eardrums.
“Then you better find a way to talk this out with your mom because I ain’t paying that shit.” I face Karen. “Rent is reasonable, but the rest you can deal with her.” Since I’ve said my piece and I’m done with this conversation, I walk out and into our bedroom to leave them to it.
I need to save every bit of what money I can for a lawyer to get custody of my baby. I don’t want to start paying Lila’s bills because her parents are tired of it. They shouldn’t have taken care of her bills instead of making her responsible for them. They’ll be paying them again when I eventually leave anyway.
A little while later, I hear the door close. It takes all of ten seconds for Lila to come into the bedroom.
“Babe, I could use a drink.”
I laugh, totally not expecting her to be calm right now. “We’re both out of luck with that.” I pat the space next to me. “Come tell me what she said to you.”
Maybe she really is trying. Maybe I won’t need to get a lawyer and ask for full custody of my kid.
Small hopes about Lila are always destroyed and I don’t know why I can’t remember that. I don’t know why I can give her little pieces of hope and forgiveness time after time when she proves herself to be a dirty, manipulative, up to no good woman every fucking time. I’ve lived in this hell for so long and yet, I give her chances like it’s Halloween candy. Why?
Why when for a week, with every meal we have together, she puts a shot of tequila on the table? She knows I want to be sober, yet she wants to tempt me every chance she gets. When I sit down to watch TV, she wordlessly brings me a shot and I have to tell her no. She stands there, like she is now, as if I didn’t even speak. Normally, I take it and set it on the end table, just to make her sit.
But I’m not doing that today. She knows I won’t drink it and I don’t want it. She needs to stop trying to fuck up my sobriety. And tonight, I feel particularly vulnerable. I haven’t heard from Idaline in about a week, since I left her house after her grandfather showed up. I texted her earlier tonight and still no word, which is making me worry. What if that jerk came back and has hurt her again?
Not only is that bothering me, but I really want that shot. Work was long and stressful. My nicotine patch makes it so I don’t want to smoke, but I don’t have anything stopping me from knocking this shot back except the knowledge that I’m not supposed to do it. That there is a little growing baby counting on me to stay sober.
But what’s one shot?
I can drink only one, right?
My hand trembles as I hold the little glass and realize I haven’t immediately set it on the end table like I normally do.
“You’re worthless, FC,” Lila spits with distaste, but her words don’t distract me enough to look away from the shot. She started talking a second ago, but her rising voice has finally gotten my attention. “All I wanted tonight was to go out and spend some time with you, but you couldn’t even do that for me. I’m tired of staying home all the time. I’m here all day and you’re too sorry to take me out when you get home. It’s pathetic how you treat me, FC. I’m the mother of your unborn child! You should treat me better than this!”
Her rant goes on and on as she begins to pace in front of the coffee table.
“You can’t even support me! My parents have to pay my bills because you won’t be a man and do what’s right. You’re worthless. Absolutely worthless, FC.”
My hand seems to lift to my mouth in slow motion.
The liquid burns down my throat so easily. Muscles I didn’t realize were tense relax. It’s as if I take my first breath of fresh air in ten years; it’s that good. Before I can set the glass down, Lila takes it, continuing on her rampage. Good. I’m only supposed to drink one. But then there’s another in my hand and I don’t hesitate this time. Now that I’ve started, my willpower has diminished. All I want and can think about is more.
Tequila is all that matters tonight.
With my back against my front door, Justin leans into me with a smile. “Do I get to come inside tonight?” He keeps coming closer as if he’s going to kiss me, but stops himself. It’s adorable. He does this dance after every date. By not kissing me, he’s not pressuring me. He does eventually kiss me, keeping it relatively short. This is the first time he’s asked to come inside, though.
Tonight was fantastic. I don’t think I’ve laughed that much in a long time. I’m definitely infatuated with Justin. He makes me feel good every time I’m with him. He rubs his nose against mine and sighs as if we just kissed. It makes me laugh.
“You can come inside.”
Justin grins and gives me a quick kiss before grabbing my hips and turning me toward the door. “Let’s go then.”
My cell phone rings as we step inside. I forgot to take it with me. I rush over and answer FC’s call.
“Hey. I can’t really talk right now.” My eyes flick over to Justin who looks over my apartment.
A slurred mess of words respond to me. It sort of sounds like he said he misses me. I don’t want to deal with a drunk FC, not tonight. I’m also disappointed and a bit sad. He never reaches out to me when he’s an incoherent drunk. I don’t know if that means I should worry or shrug it off.
Regardless, I say, “Go sleep it off, FC. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He slurs something, but I can’t understand him, so I just say goodbye and hang up. Justin comes over and eyes me curiously.
“Sorry,” I say. “FC’s one of my friends.” A friend I might just have to kill the next time I talk to him. The fun, flirty, sexy mood that filled the air moments ago has disappeared.
Justin comes closer and trails his fingertips under my fingers. Such a small act, but goosebumps rise up all along my arm. “Is he something you want to talk about right now? You seem upset.”
“We can talk about him another day. What happened tonight, I can’t change, so I’d rather not talk about it.” Last time I talked to FC, he didn’t want to stop drinking. Telling Justin about my worries won’t help FC or my concerns.
“How about we sit and watch a movie then?” Justin suggests. He tugs me toward the couch and pulls me so close to him, I might as well be sitting in his lap.
“I thought you only wanted to come in to have sex with me?” I tease with a raised brow.
Justin’s jaw drops as he grabs my knee. “Now, Idaline, I’m a gentleman. Gentlemen can watch a movie until the girl’s more relaxed and in a better headspace after a not-so-good phone call from her friend before he makes a move. It’s not nice to point out the reason I wanted to come in when I’m being a gentleman.”
I laugh and smile. “Maybe if you make your move now, I’ll be ready.” Is it so bad to want our date to return to normal? I’ve been enjoying my time with Justin so much and I’m ready to take this next step.
He brings his hands up, one to cup my jaw, the other moving around to the back of my neck to float up into my hair. His mouth brushes over mine. “You want this?” he asks quietly. The silence in the apa
rtment seems to amplify our breathing, his question, and our heartbeats.
“Yes,” I whisper.
I expect his mouth to crash to mine, but it doesn’t. His greets mine with ease and a familiarity. We’ve kissed before, but this kiss will be leading to something new between us. Like a slow, antsy build, our kiss intensifies. Justin stands, pulls me to stand, and sweeps his hand out for me to lead the way. My heart pounds in anticipation of the anxiety that should flood my veins any second now. With every step I take, I wait for it to hit me. It never fails that I have anxiety prior to sex with a person for the first time. Rationalizing that some nerves is normal doesn’t always help.
But I’m blown out of the water when I reach my bedroom with Justin and not a nerve can be found. That has to mean something huge, right? Maybe I’ve been wrong about FC being my soulmate. Maybe it could be Justin, the guy who relaxes me and keeps my anxiety at bay without even trying. The sex even seems better than with men I’ve been with in the past. Afterward, I don’t hesitate to invite him to spend the night, just so I can fall asleep in his arms.
“Idaline,” Justin whispers in the morning, kissing my bare shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“Your phone is going off like crazy again. Want me to go get it?”
I sigh. I was sleeping so soundly and contentedly in his arms. “No, I’ll get it.” With eyes half-closed, I get out of bed and walk all the way to the living room for my phone. It’s a videocall from FC. I answer. Before I can scold him about last night, I stop and stare. “Are you okay?” I whisper.
“Are you naked?” he asks incredulously.
“Oh. Sorry.” I bring the phone closer, so it shows only my face. “What happened to you?” He has a busted lip and one of his eyes is swollen shut.
“Had a bad run-in with the doorknob,” he says. “Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry about last night. All I know is I texted and called you a bunch of times.” He squints his eyes as much as he can. “Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”
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